Burn
by chronicler-of-knuckles
Summary: Whoever said "revenge is a dish best served cold" was never a Fireman.
1. Chapter 1

Flashpoint: Burn

By The Chronicler

0o0o0o0o0

The splash of gasoline had a rainbow effect as it ran down the pearl colored wall. Every little light shimmered as it reflected off the slickened surfaces, dripping to the dark, hard wood floor. The air was thick with the harsh fumes from, not just the gasoline, but leaking natural gas, spilt kerosene from the once romantic lamps shattered about the house, smashed expensive liquor bottles… Anything and everything flammable had been found, smashed, destroyed, and, otherwise, made ready.

"Andy, buddy, what are you doing?" Greg called out to the man from behind Ed's protective shield.

"Get out of here, man!" the man shouted back. "This place is about to become the hottest zone in town!" In preparation of such, he poured what was left in the right handed can all over the black leather sofa, splashing more on the long, elegant drapes.

"Andy, you don't want to do this. There's been enough loss for one day, hasn't there?"

"No!" Andy screamed back. "Enough? Enough? Have you ever heard the one you love the most in the world scream in agony… agony, begging you to make them stop, screaming when it hurts so much he can't even form words… as they scrape and wash away the burned skin? Oh, they know he won't live, but they still put him through that hell… and you let them!... because there is some hope, some breath of a chance that you cling to… something will make it all better again… bring him back to me!"

Greg shook his head, sadly. "Buddy, I can't imagine what you must have gone through. But, I can't imagine that this is what Tony would have wanted. Do you really think he would have wanted you to do this? That he would want others to suffer what he had? Want you to? Andy, Tony was a good man who wanted…"

"To live!" Andy snapped. He snatched up his last can.

"I've got the solution." came Sam's call.

"No." Greg hissed into the com. "Fumes in here, we'd all go up like a Roman candle."

"Spike… tell me you got that door open." Ed growled into the com, pressing his back against Greg, making sure his boss didn't slip pass him and into the danger zone.

"This thing's built to keep a damn bazooka at bay!" Spike complained, slamming his hand against a steel door he paced in front of, his laptop plugged into its computer lock.

"Isn't there a chance…" Jules tried from where she was ushering the staff out the back door.

"This place goes up, and this thing is gonna turn into an easy bake oven." Spike shot her down.

"Andy…" Greg called out again.

"Greg." came the suddenly calm response. Andy looked at the SRU officer. "Greg, you're good people and I appreciate what you all are trying to do. But it's time for you to get out now. Go!... and hurry!" He raised his hand…

A silver lighter with a fireman's crossed axes in bright red on the side…

….with a flick of the thumb, a long flame shot out of the top.

The flame whipped about with sudden life, breathing in all the delicious fumes, purring at all the fuel…

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" Greg yelled into his com as Ed spun about and dived for him.

Then, with a roar of freedom, the flame ignited...

… and the one time expensively lavished, elegant sitting room became hell's own inferno.

0o0o0o0o0

Twelve hours earlier…

He was only twenty-two years old.

Prime of his life.

Young, strong, energetic, cocky, full of life, full of the right here and now…

He laid cocooned in bandages, what skin was visible was blackened and unrecognizable as human. The few fingers exposed more resembled burnt hotdogs than digits. So many tubes and wires ran into and through the prone figure, one might think to tug on one just to see if he would dance.

Andreas Lenardo squeezed his hands in tight fists, feeling his nails cut into the palms of his hands. He could hear the doctor as he spoke, his voice a buzz in the back of his skull, as he told him about his brother's condition. He knew what the man was saying, could even appreciate how gentle he was trying to be. He already knew it all, knew for days now, knew from the moment they had first pulled his little brother from that burning rubble.

Only four days earlier, Fire Inspector Andreas Lenardo had stood in that very night club, clip board in hand, his brother bouncing around him like an eager puppy.

"This place…. Didn't I tell you, Andy? Didn't I?"

Andy was frowning as he looked at his clipboard. "It's something alright. A fire trap." He looked at his brother. "Tony, I told you I would do the inspection for you, but… man, I can't okay this! Bars on the emergency exits? Those curtains over the lights practically don't need a flame to go up in smoke. And that's with candles on every table and ancient wiring…"

Tony shook his head. "I can fix that… all of that! Just give us the sign off. And a list! I can have everything fixed before our grand opening."

Andy rolled his eyes. "Tony, you know how many times I hear that?"

"From me? Man, I'm your brother! I need this!" Tony pleaded.

"How are we doing, fellas?" asked a tall man in a slick, black tailored suit as he walked across the dance floor, the silver heals on his leather loafers clicking on the shiny floor. "All set to open?" Even his voice was slick and smooth.

Tony skipped away to meet the man. "Sure thing, boss. What'd I say? Andy's the best. Got a few fix-its, but…" Tony looked over his shoulder at his brother, a plea in his green eyes, begging his hero to save him one more time.

"But?" Mr. Windell Roselin repeated, one black eyebrow raised as he eyed his employee and then the fireman brother. "You told me there would be no buts, Tony." Despite his sweet tone, there was no missing the silent growl in his words. "You know I do not like buts."

Two rather large men, dressed in equally neat, slick, black suits pushed away from the bar.

Andy stiffened. He resisted the urge to reach out and pull his little brother behind him.

Why or how did Tony ever get involved with people like this….

He could have worked his way up to owning his own place someday. Andy would have helped! But the kid was offered a spot at what he thought was the top of a brand new club.

Brand new club owned by The Rose Corporation, in turn owned by one Windell Roselin, also known as the Mr. Big of Canada.

And not the good Mr. Big.

The bad Mr. Big that Daredevil and Spider Man were always duking it out with.

Man had his thumb in so many illegal pies, bets were he wasn't in jail yet was because agencies were too busy arguing over who got him first.

Tony flashed his best smile. "No buts, Mr. Rose. I just have to do some quick fix-its, then Andy can sign us off…" He shrugged. "Only another day…"

Roselin ground his teeth.

Even Andy could hear it from where he was standing. His eyes darted to the henchmen who were approaching, reacting to their employer's turn of mood.

Andy sighed. "Tony… you promise to have it done? Everything done right? Before the doors open?"

Tony spun about like he had just been delivered his very own pony for his sixth birthday. Eyes so bright, smile a mile wide… "Promise!" he held up a three finger hand, the Boy Scout's promise. "Swear it! Work all night long! There won't be a bar, flammable curtain, candle in sight when the big doors open!"

Andy glanced down at his clipboard, glanced at Mr. Roselin, glanced at his brother… again he sighed. Pulling his pen from his pocket, he signed the paper. Ripping off a copy he held it out to his brother.

"You, man, are the best brother…" Tony started to reach for it, but Andy pulled it back just a breath.

Andy gave him that look he used when he needed to make things clear. "Tony, we're talking about lives. People's lives."

Tony let his excitement drop away. He nodded once. "Yea, Andy. I get it. I promise, man, on my life! This joint will be so safe you'll want to use it as your poster for fire safety." He held his hand out.

Andy held out just a moment longer. But, like always, he gave his little brother what he wanted. "Okay. Done."

"Well done!" Roselin cheered happily, clapping Tony on the back. "How about a celebratory dinner? Wine, dine, lobster and steak…"

Tony turned excited eyes to his brother, more thrilled with dinner with the boss than anything the whole day had shown him.

But Andy shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I've got…" he stopped just short of saying integrity. "…Work stuff. Tony?"

Tony licked his lips, glancing from hero fireman brother to gangster employer to hero fireman brother again. "Um, yea, sorry, Mr. Rose. Think I should get onto that list if we're gonna be ready to pop this can tomorrow night."

Mr. Roselin frowned at the brothers for a moment, never liking being turned down. But, hey, if he gets what he wants… With a laugh, he waved back at his men. "Let's eat, be merry." And they took their leave.

Andy looked at his brother one more time.

"Promise, Andy!" Tony assured one more time, bright eyes and mile wide grin back. "This is gonna be the hottest zone in town!"

And it was.

Burned down opening night.

Bars still in place.

Flaming curtains falling down, around the full house.

Candles knocked over by panicked patrons.

Thirteen people dead.

Twenty eight injured.

Club manager Anthony Lenardo third degree burns over eighty-nine percent of his body, alive only by miracle…

Miracle?

Depends on one's definition.

Every breath was agony. Every forced beat of his heart, every droplet of blood pumped through strangled veins, every… everything!

"It's time, Mr. Lenardo." The doctor was saying. "There is nothing more we can do for your brother." His voice was soft, gentle, kind.

Andy took a deep breath and held it.

"Mr. Lenardo…?"

Andy's eyes tore away from his brother to look at the doctor.

"What I am trying to say…"

"I know!" As soon as he snapped, he pulled back his anger. Licking his lips, he spoke again, calmer, quieter. "I know, Dr. Miles, what you are trying to say. I know." He patted the doctor on the arm. "Do what you can to keep him comfortable… as much as possible… until… until…"

"We will." Dr. Miles assured. "And you…?"

"Gonna make sure someone pays for this." He whispered the promise to himself, to Tony, to the victims of the fire, to the city he had sworn to protect, but, most of all, he swore to Mr. Windell Roselin. "Pays fire for fire!"

0o0o0o0o0

A/N: so, just an idea. Seeing if it catches anyone's attention. ~~The Chronicler


	2. Chapter 2

0o0o0o0o0

"Up and over the wall, Spike!" Ed yelled from the side lines. "Not under or around! Up and over!"

Spike ground his teeth as he glared at the offending wall. "I swear… one night when he isn't looking, me and this wall are going to have a moment."

"Yea, yea, yea." Wordy chuckled from the top of the wall, waiting to give Spike a hand.

"I'm telling you… few well-placed charges…"

"Scarlatti! We're waiting!" came a reminder from their Team Leader.

Wordy waved a hand, indicating an upward motion.

With a sigh, Spike gave a nod, letting his partner know he was coming, and then took a run at him.

Like a champion, like everyone else on the team, Spike was up and over in the matter of a breath.

Leah and Jules, waiting for the guys on the other side, shared a smile.

"So, what was the fuss all about?" Leah wondered. "Not like this is something new."

Jules chuckled. "Neither is Spike's wining." She shrugged. "He just prefers computers and explosives to manual labor."

"Ah." Leah gave a slow nod in understanding. "Brain over brawn. Thing don't always work out that way."

"That's right!" Ed confirmed loudly, stepping over to join them as Spike and Wordy finished the last few steps of the course. "It's not all about brains and good looks, people. Occasionally, we have to actually use something below the necks."

"Huh." Wordy grinned, warning "That lecture can go horribly wrong."

Spike shrugged. "Depends on your definition…"

"Not to mention marital status." Wordy agreed.

Ed cleared his throat, giving the boys that glare that told them all he was trying very hard not to be amused.

The boys responded by looking completely innocent.

The girls turned away quickly to hide their giggles.

Ed gave up the glare, letting a little smile show through. "Alright, alright. Let's see how fast you jokers can get ready for shift." He turned and headed back toward the house, yelling over his shoulder "Patrol in ten."

"Aw." Wordy grinned as he grabbed jacket off bench. "Think we made him blush."

Spike grinned right back, snatching up his gear. "Nay. Constable Ed Lane is too tough for that."

Jules rolled her eyes. "You know he's gonna make you guys pay for that, right?"

"They know." Leah assured. "Difference between the genders."

The other three stopped to look at her.

Leah smiled. "Women see a snarling bear and they avoid it. Men see a snarling bear and they poke it with a stick." She explained, before turning and heading after Ed.

"Who?" Wordy glanced about to see if any other male might be there to accuse. "Us?"

Jules chuckled. With a shrug, she joined Leah. "Least we'll be entertained."

Following behind with Wordy, Spike was left shaking his head. "Don't know about you, but I see a snarling bear… I'm gonna run the other direction."

0o0o0o0o0

Mr. Windell Roselin stepped up to the podium. "I want to start off by thanking all of you for being here this early in the morning." He paused to look out at the crowd of reporters before them.

Every one of them was bundled up, toting cameras and sound equipment, watching him with every possible ounce of interest they could muster.

Roselin resisted the urge to smile at the attention. Instead he donned his best pained expression and continued. "There are no words to describe the sorrow I feel for the lives lost in the fire at the Whispers Club last Saturday night. I am a father with two small children. I cannot imagine the agony the parents of those thirteen young people. Or the hardships facing the twenty-eight injured in the fire." He closed his eyes, holding up a hand, asking to take a moment to collect himself. When he opened his eyes again, he promised "The Rose Corporation promises to be there to see them through this."

"Are you offering to pay their medical bills?" one reporter asked.

A henchman stepped up with a growled "Hold your questions!"

Instinctively, the cameras began to swivel toward the bulky, intimidating henchmen.

Roselin was quick to call their attention back toward him, though. "No, no, it's okay, Bob." Not that he actually knew the henchman's name, but, hey, everyone had a Bob, right. When the cameras quickly refocused on him, Roselin explained "Lawyers from the Rose Corporation will be meeting with the families of the victims to discuss options."

"How do you respond to those who think criminal charges should be issued?" another reporter called out.

Roselin felt his jaw tighten, but manage to keep complete control over his expressions. "I completely agree." he answered with a bob of his head. When the crowd began to grumble, he held up his hands. "No, I agree! I was taken just like the rest of you. I dedicated time, effort, love, and, yes, money to a club that I had long hoped would bring fun and excitement to our young people. I worried and fussed, I lost sleep and agonized over the future of this endeavor. I hunted for and thought I had found the right person to bring Club Whispers to life. And with all that on the line, I trusted a city official, a Fire Marshal, to tell me if Whispers was safe or not to open." He dropped his eyes and shook his head sadly. "I had no idea that the young, eager to please manager had a brother in the Fire Department. I had no idea that he would, in an effort to make his debut go off without a hitch, enlist his brother's aid, falsifying a fire inspection. I had no idea that a man sworn to protect this city and its many fine and decent citizens would risk them all for… for what? What did he gain from this? I don't know. The happiness of giving his young brother anything he wanted?" Again he shook his head, his eyes coming up to gaze off into the dramatic nowhere. "His actions not only condemned thirteen precious young people… his own brother was also caught in the blaze. His careless actions lead to the horrible death of his own brother. Now, you tell me…" Roselin jabbed a finger at his captivated audience, "Is that the sort of man you want protecting your city?" He slammed his fist on the podium. "No, by God, no! I intend to press the city to charge this Fire Marshal for his crimes! I cannot bring back those thirteen lost souls, but, I will be damned if I stand back and do nothing to prevent such a disaster from ever happening again!" again the fist came down. "Never again!" he swore loud and clear. It took every ounce of self-control he had to not smile at the cheer that rose from his audience.

He had sold them a line.

They had bought it.

He had flawlessly delivered them a pansy to take the fall.

His lawyers were twisting and back stepping and delivering all those pretty empty promises to the families.

His representatives were collecting the insurance payouts on that worthless little dive they had spent a few thousand to dress up as something much more than it was.

Mr. Windell Roselin was very pleased with his morning's work.

As he turned from the podium, he waved to his henchmen. "I do believe we deserve a big, beautiful breakfast in, say, Rose Lounge. Any objections? Didn't think so. Bob's buying." He chuckled to himself as he made his way to the waiting limo.

As the limo pulled out into traffic, a large pickup truck followed a few cars behind.

Andy Lenardo listened to the radio as the news broadcast reported on the press conference. "Never again!" echoed through the cab of the truck when Andy reached out and turned it off.

"Never again…" he whispered to himself.

Roselin was right. Andy tried to protect his brother from him. And, not only did he fail in that one, simple task, he condemned thirteen others as well.

If it had not been for Roselin...

If it had not been for him…

Never again.

Andy shook his cell phone free and made a call.

0o0o0o0o0

"Shotgun!" Spike called.

Leah smiled. "All yours." She surrendered without a fight. Not that there would have been much of a fight. She liked Spike. And it was never boring riding with him. Even in the darkest moments, he seemed to find a smile.

'Course, it helped some that he was everyone's favorite, goofy, little brother with mad computer skills and absolutely no confidence in a social setting.

How did the guys say it?

A geek with combat skills?

A buzz from her phone snapped her out of her thoughts. Checking the caller ID, she told her partner "I need to answer this. Be just a moment."

"Sure." Spike grabbed her bag for her and busied himself with getting their gear stowed in the SUV.

Leah flipped open her phone. "Hey, Andy?"

"Hey, Leah, how's the new life treating you? Staying out of trouble?"

She smiled a little. "Actually, the job kinda requires going to meet trouble."

"Huh. Yea, guess it does."

When he was quiet for a moment, Leah asked the hard question: "How's Tony?"

Silence.

Leah closed her eyes. She could picture the little boy running around the fire house, making his big brother's life hectic at best. "Andy?"

"He's gone, Leah."

She instantly had to fight back the tears. "I… I'm sorry, Andy. He was a good kid."

"He was!" he answered a little too quickly.

Leah's eyes opened, her training sending tingles down her neck. But this was Andy. He just lost his brother, his only family. Of course he was upset. "Is there anything I can do?" she offered.

"Um… yea. I was calling to ask if you can take Weirdo for me."

"Yea, sure, no problem. She's always welcome in my house. You know that." Leah hesitated. "You know how long?"

"I… I don't know… off hand… I'm going to be busy, for a while. Can I get back to you on that?"

"Yea." Leah wished she could see him, see for herself what was going through his mind, playing in his eyes, his body language. "Why don't I come by after work? I'll pick up some beers and some pasta…"

"I won't be there."

"Well… maybe a cup of coffee later…?"

"I don't know when… I can. Look, Leah, key is in the same old place. Dishes, food, toys… all bagged up and ready to go."

"Yea… sure." Leah licked her lips. "Andy, you know… anything you need… just to talk… anything…"

She remembered that day, feeling the fire burn across her back, panic as her entire world was shrouded in thick smoke and pain.

Then that hand reaching down for her…

through the black…

through the horror…

through the panic…

If she could just reach back…

"Andy, I'm here for you."

There was a pause as they both held their breaths.

"I know, Leah… and thanks." Andy spoke, his voice soft, as if he was remembering too. But then the voice became stronger. "Leah, I want you to know… I have never known a better firefighter! One tough cookie who didn't take crap from anyone." He chuckled. "You just… just stay true to yourself, okay?"

There goes that tingling down her neck again. Leah's head came up, listening even more intently. "Andy…"

"Talk to you later. Take care of Weirdo… Take care of yourself." And the call ended with the finality of a click.

Leah gazed at her phone for a moment.

She might be new to this stuff, but did he just sound kinda…

No, this was Andy!

He'd just lost his brother… that sweet kid, Tony, so young and full of life and goofy and ready to tackle any and all challenges life could possibly come up for him… That would rattle anyone. But Andy was the strongest man Leah knew. The highest mountain, deepest sea, greatest hardship sort of man.

He was going to get through this.

He was going to be just fine.

He was going to be okay.

So, why was she still staring at her phone?

Shaking her head, Leah tucked the devise away, and hurried to catch up with Spike.

Her partner was leaning against the passenger door, watching her approached. "Everything okay?" he asked, his own training catching details she wished he hadn't. "You look a little rattled."

Leah sighed. "Friend just lost his little brother." She admitted because it was better than trying to hide anything from these people.

"Ouch. Sorry. Know that can be rough." Spike offered. He held the door open for her. "Friend okay?"

Leah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Hope so." But then she shook her head again, deciding to focus on the job ahead. She looked at the open door and asked "Thought you called shotgun?"

Spike shrugged. "Call it a pity switch. 'Sides, been awhile since I've driven someone over the edge."

Leah smiled again. "Not according to Wordy." She teased as he made his way around to the driver's side.

"Yea, well, for him it's a short trip. Buckle up! Beep, beep!"

0o0o0o0o0

A/N: I didn't really know who I was going to play with until a feedback asked about Leah. So... here's Leah! Mind you, the series didn't really seem to build up her character, so I really don't know if I'm writing her right. Please, feedback and let me know. ~~The Chronicler


	3. Chapter 3

0o0o0o0o0

Mr. Wendell Roselin sat at his usual table, surrounded by his usual girls and grinning yes men. His plate full of sweet rolls, steak, and runny eggs. His cup filled with some imported sweet coffee, blistering hot. There was nothing on his mind but the moment of fun right there in front of him. He had no thought of yesterday or tomorrow. No care about an hour from now, or even five minutes.

Hell, he had henchmen to worry about all that!

All he had to care about was the soft, sweet lips nestling his ear and if his coffee was cool enough to drink yet… or would have to throw it at the waiter and have him beaten until he got the temperature right.

The morning sun was just coming in through the big windows at the front of the deli and the little old man baker hurried to drop the blinds before the night club king find reason to blame him for the damning bright glare.

"Hey! Hey!" Roselin snapped. "Leave that open! You got a great view!" He nudged one of the girls "Would you look at that gorgeous critter going up across the way there?" He pointed at the construction site across the street from the deli. "That, my beautiful, little whore, is the brand new, best in the world, Roses are Red Night Club extraordinaire! Gonna make Studio 54 look like a… a… a freaking deli shop!" He roared with laughter at his own joke, prompting the girls and Yes Men to offer laughs of their own.

As the baker turned from the window, breathing a sigh of relief that his patron was laughing and not shooting, someone caught his arm.

He glanced up at the tall man in a yellow fireman's coat and began to stutter his apologies, that the deli was closed for a special party. But, something in the way the man looked at him caught his words in his throat. When the stranger tilted his head toward the door, the baker's eyes widened only a little.

After all, when one associate himself with gangsters, no matter how far from the top, one expected a stranger to come through the door someday, warning "Leave or die."

So, with a head jerk to his young waiter, the baker quickly snatched his coat and hat, and slipped out the door. The waiter was only a breath behind, barely dodging the thrown coffee mug and its roaring owner.

"Hey… Hey, where do you think you're going?! Get that little weasel back here! Teach him how to make a good cup of cof…" Roselin stopped in mid rant when he saw the newcomer. "Huh. What'd you want?" he snapped.

Andy Leonardo glanced about the deli, ignoring the man and his party.

"Hey, I know you!" exclaimed the big man after a moment's consideration. "Little Tony's big brother… the fireman." He said it as if he expected someone to hand him a prize for his great detective skills. When none came, Roselin slouched back in his booth, holding his arms up and wide so that his girls could snuggle in close. "Sad, sad business that was, all burned up like he got. So's how's the kid doin'? Anything fall off?" He laughed at his own joke, prompting his yes men to add their own laughter.

Andy glanced at him. "He was all I had." He growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Yes Men fell absolutely silent. Henchmen stiffened. The girls began to slip out of the way.

But Roselin barked out a cruel laugh. "Well, you sure as hell didn't have a lot, did you?!" He glanced about, rather pleased with his joke, grinning broadly when his people gave a few nervous chuckles.

The Fire Marshal smiled slightly. "Neither do you… not really."

Roselin leaned forward, ignoring the girls as they seemed to vanish out through the kitchen. "Yea? I own clubs around the city… the territory! I own the biggest damn house on Forest Hill! And that!" He rose to his feet, shoving the table aside as he threw a hand at the big front window and the construction site across the street. "What do you call that, little man?" he sneered.

Andy leaned back, looking out the window. "That looks like a lot of wood and flammable material to me." He glanced back at the gangster, suddenly standing alone with just a few henchmen.

Deli workers gone.

Girls were gone.

Yes Men gone.

Andy shrugged. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicked it open. "You know how fast fire can take your whole world away?" He touched the flame to a wet trail on the door frame.

Roselin frowned. "What're you doin' there?" he demanded.

Andy watched the flame follow the trail down the wood, racing along the dark trail across the sidewalk, down the gutter. "Just like that… and your whole world… everything you ever had…. Is gone… poof!"

"What is he doing?!" Roselin roared, shoving one of his henchmen toward the door.

The ribbon of fire burned across the street, up the opposite sidewalk, over the heavy word fence of the construction site.

"Stop it! Stop it! Put it out!" Roselin started to yell as he realized the little flame's destination. "Go! Go! Now!"

And stepped aside as the henchmen were shoved, pushed, and hit out the door, Roselin right behind. He sent his men scattering across the street, but it was too late.

"Poof." Andy continued. "Like a puff of smoke… all you had… gone…"

Behind the fence, something erupted. The force knocked the fence back, slamming the closest henchman back to the ground. Flames were suddenly racing up every beam, every brace, every joint, every stick…

The Roses are Red Club to be was engulfed in a hellish storm of fire and destruction.

"No, no, no, NONONONONO!" Roselin screamed. He spun about, fists balled up, ready to beat to death the man who just, in a breath, took away his pride and joy.

But Andy Leonardo was gone.

Snatching the closest henchman, Roselin yelled at him "Fine him! Find him! Bring him to me!" Then he was yelling at the world in general "You're a dead man, Mr. Fireman! A dead man!"

0o0o0o0o0

Sargent Parker pulled his SUV to a stop beside the fire truck. Stepping out, he looked over the scene.

What had once been a half completed four story building with tall columns and carved eves and a stack of pricey siding and ceiling tiles, was nothing more than a smoldering ruins. Ash and smoke was all that was left. Surprising enough, the building, and a few fence posts was all that was damaged. Even the construction workers' outhouses, sitting just a few feet away from the most out stretched coals, were all but unscathed by the destruction.

"Parker!" Captain Ellison of the Toronto Fire Department called to him, waving a clipboard.

Greg waved in return as he made his way over the fire hoses and equipment to meet with the man. "Ellison, busy morning?" he asked with another glance about. He really wasn't sure what he was doing there. Winnie had just said the Fire Captain wanted to talk to SRU, that he thought he might have something more their sort of work than his.

Ellison shrugged. "Fire took care of itself mostly." He looked over the rubble with an almost admiring glint to his eyes. "Man knew his business. Critter burned hot and fast, dropped everything right down on top of itself, suffocating the big flames, and just burned itself to ashes on the hot coals."

Greg looked at him again. "Arson then?"

Ellison nodded. "Yup. Fella here I wanted you to have a chat with." He lead the way back to his own red and white SUV. "Mr. Maxwell?"

The baker was leaning against the SUV, his young waiter pacing back and forth chewing on the edge of his thumb. When he saw the two men walking toward them, the baker quickly straightened up and took a step to meet them.

"Mr. Maxwell, this is Sargent Parker of the SRU." Ellison made the introductions. "Want you to tell him what you told me."

"Jimmy…." Hissed the waiter, his foot tapping nervously. "This' dangerous, man. If'n the guys found out…"

But the baker waved a hand at him. "'Bout time someone said somethin'. They're gonna kill that fella if someone don't."

"They're gonna kill us if'n someone does!"

Greg frowned at the two. "Mr. Maxwell, is someone threatening you?"

"Humph!" huffed the waiter. "Jimmy, you do what you want, but I ain't havin' no part of it. I quit! I do!"

"No, you don't." Jimmy, the baker, grumbled. "You just go back to the shop. Anyone asks, you don't know nothing."

"See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil." Hissed the waiter. But, giving up on saving his friend, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the SUV. After a nervous huff, he started to chew on his thumb again, looking everywhere but at the Fire Captain and SRU officer.

Greg glanced at Ellison.

"Mr. Maxwell…?" Ellison prodded.

"Yea." Jimmy took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then plunged in. "Look, you know this fella… a big, bad man…. Mr. Rose? Well, trust me, he's not the sort you want to butt heads with. But, anyhow, he owns the shop I work at, the Rose Lounge… right over there… anyhow, he was having breakfast this morning… he likes to look at this joint. Says it's is glory marker."

"Humph. Was." Huffed the waiter.

"Yea, well, was." Jimmy agreed. "But, you know, that's why you all are here, right? 'Cause that fella that came in this morning. Man had a look about him, you know… like dead man walking… but with a purpose…. Know what I mean? Anyhow, I got me and Harry there out of the way right quick. Some fellas, they got that look about them that you just duck and cover… and that's what we did… but, we watched…"

"You watched!" Harry, the waiter, was quick to correct. "I didn't see nothin'. Not one damn thing!"

"Yea, yea, whatever!"

"Maxwell!" Ellison snapped, getting more than a little irritated with the time his story was taking.

"Yea, well, this guy… Rose seemed to know him, and they talked for a few… then this fella, he lit a fire… and sure as hell didn't that little fire just ran right across the street and…. Well, ba-boom! There it is!" Jimmy waved a hand at the smoldering remains.

Greg's eyebrows rose. "Ba-boom?" he repeated.

Jimmy nodded. "Man just up and blew Mr. Rose's glory marker right out of the water… so to speak. And, Mr. Rose… well, he wasn't none too happy, you can imagine. He started yelling and hollering…" His voice dropped and he leaned forward like he wanted to share a secret. "He says, now, to hunt down that fella. He wants that fella brought to him… and, sure as I'm standing here, bets are, Mr. Rose… he's gonna do that fella in."

"Do him in?" Greg was begining to wonder if he wasn't watching some bad Perry Mason or Matlock or something. The story was sounding… well, like a story.

It was Harry who suddenly butted in with "Kill! You know? Hunt him down like a mad dog and put a cap in his ass! Damn, isn't this when you guys are supposed to do something?"

Jimmy smirked at his friend. "Thought you didn't know nothing."

"Hell, I'm dead by association." Harry snapped at him. "Shoulda taken a damn job at McDonalds or Timmy's or somethin' safe and boring. But, nooooo, mom says I know a good guy, he'll get you a job… sure. Great job…" He would have gone on complaining if hadn't been distracted by chewing on his thumb.

"Mr. Maxwell," Greg paused to choose his words, not wanting to put any ideas into the man's head. He need to know exactly what he was being told and judge how real it was. "Jimmy, do you believe that Mr. Rose is going to attempt to… hurt…"

"Kill!" Harry groaned.

"… attack this man… the one who started this fire?" Greg finished, throwing a glare at the waiter.

Jimmy the baker straightened to his full height. "Mister, wouldn't be the first body Mr. Rose had put down. And none of them ever gave Mr. Rose a reason like this. I swear to you… end of this day, only way that fella's gonna still be alive is if Mr. Rose ain't."

"Which, gotta tell you, wouldn't have too many folks broken up in tears 'bout." Harry added.

Ellison offered his hand to the baker. "Thank you, Mr. Maxwell. If you could stay here a moment more…"

"Yea, yea, sure." Jimmy turned about and started a very quiet, heated discussion with his waiter.

Ellison turned to Greg. "So, Parker, tell me we don't have a problem and I'll believe you." He almost begged, his voice low so that only the two of them could hear.

Greg tilted his head. "This arson… he target this building? Nothing else was touched?"

Ellison nodded. "If this was a firebug, this neighborhood would be burning." He shook a finger at the rubble. "This guy… this guy was hunting."

Greg chewed on the inside of his cheek.

The Fire Captain leaned close. "At best, we have a target motivated arson, which, I guarantee, will eventually kill someone. No fire is ever completely tamed. At worse, we have two men running around a city that is about to wake up and become very busy, gunning for each other. Well, one might be using a gun. But one is definitely using fire. And, like I said… fire will eventually kill someone!"

Greg looked at him.

He looked at the smoldering rubble.

And he had a sudden vision of such rubbles spotting the city, people in a panic, smoldering bodies laying in the street.

SRU Sargent Greg Parked dropped his hand to his radio. "Ed… we need to talk."

0o0o0o0o0


	4. Chapter 4

0o0o0o0o0

Andy stood across the street as he watched the Royal Rose begin to burn.

He had no worries that the hotel half a block away was safe, or that the corner store would be left untouched.

He knew what he was doing.

He knew how things burned.

The pattern it left on the floor…

How the flames crawled up the walls…

Where the ceiling would bend and bow under the assault of heat as fire ate away at its innards…

Exactly where to place the hottest point so that the walls would collapse inward, crushing and suffocating the fire before it could do anything more than utterly destroy the target and only the target.

By the time the sirens could be heard, there was nothing left of the Royal Rose Night Club except a few burning beams leaning up against what might have been the marble bar.

A lot of money had been put into that little club.

And a lot of money just went up in smoke.

A little more of Rose's precious empire was little more than hot ashes drifting on waves of heat.

Andy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He glanced about the street, seeing a few curios look-sees standing on the sidewalks, chattering in their cell phones. No doubt one of them had taken pictures, at least one other was talking to the police before twittering the whole scene.

From here on out, Andy knew, things had to move fast. It would only be a matter of time before the police would figure out what was going on.

And, he knew, there was at least one of them that knew him well enough to get ahead of him.

He couldn't risk that.

What had to be done, had to be done now.

Andy climbed into his truck and pulled away as the fire trucks pulled in behind him.

0o0o0o0o0

Sirens screamed as fire trucks pulled out of their barns and out into morning traffic, headed for battle like giant war machines, carrying the men and women of the fire fighting force, armed with only axes and hoses, protected only by a thin material and breathing apparatuses.

Leah watched from the passenger seat of the SRU SUV as they pulled to the side of the road to allow the fire trucks to pass. For a moment she was lost in memories and wonderings.

Did she know anyone aboard?

What fire were they going to?

Would they all return?

"You miss it?" Spike suddenly asked.

"Hmm?" Leah responded, though her mind was more on the fire crews than her partner.

Spike nodded to the last truck as it passed and he pulled the SUV back into traffic. "Do you miss running into fires? You know? The smoke, the heat? The cool boots? Busting down people's doors with a big mean axe? Riding in that big, ol' truck?"

Leah smiled. "Some stuff I miss. Other stuff…" She shook her head. But then she offered him a smile. "Besides, not like I'm sitting around the SRU, twiddling my thumbs."

"Yea, well, fires don't shoot back. That's something I'd miss." Spike pointed out. "Be cool if we could just hose down a subject and call it a day. Long as he didn't have an umbrella, we'd be good. New uniforms: big, baggy beach shorts and bikinis."

"Doesn't work quite like that, Spike." Leah let her gaze drift, after the trucks, after the crews, after the memories. "Fire could miss you, burn right pass, leave you thinking `thank God, I survived'…. Only to have it come back… from below, from above, crawling within the walls… you'll be listening for the roar, the heat, all the telltale signs that danger is about to strike… but… fire also whispers and hides, smolders without a whisp of smoke… He'll eat the world around you without you even knowing He's there; weaken the floor beneath your feet, dissolve the walls around you, devour the ceiling above you… until, suddenly, you're falling down into a pit of hell, flames curling in around you, molten ribbons raining from above…"

"Okay!" Spike leaped to cut her off. "No career change advised. Got it." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "So… if it's all that… why'd you become a firefighter in the first place?"

Leah closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Then she turned to look at her partner. "Why do you disarm bombs?"

Spike shrugged. "Someone's got to be the hero."

Leah smiled slightly. "Someone's got to be the hero." She answered back. Then she pointed out the window. "There's the guys."

The rest of the team was parked behind a fire truck, watching as fire fighters rushed to unroll hoses and evacuate the neighboring buildings of a smoldering pile of rubble.

"Someone remember the marshmallows?" was Spike's greeting to the others as he and Leah joined the other members of Team One.

"Funny." Ed answered, though it sounded more like a warning. "Listen up!" He nodded to Greg.

Their Sargent looked around at them. "So, here's the deal: Someone is burning down clubs owned by the Rose Corporation. And, apparently, Mr. Rose isn't too thrilled about it. I've talked to Guns and Gangs and they seem to be of the mind that Mr. Rose is more than a little likely to try and shoot it out."

"Rose Corporation?" Jules asked. "Didn't they run that club that burned few nights back? Killed some people?"

"Is this pay back?" Sam wanted to know. "Are we looking at victims? Survivors?"

"Those are the questions." Greg answered. "Winnie's sending us a list. We'll split it up and see who's who." He looked at his team, one at a time. "We do not know what's going on. There are fires. People with guns are angry. We have no idea who the subject is, how many subjects there are, where they are… And, to top it off, we just might end up having to worry about the victim shooting up the town on his own little vengeance deal. Or, we just might find out that this is all just a real bad run of luck.."

"Karma kicking in some teeth?" Ed huffed at that.

"When are we ever that lucky?" Wordy groaned.

Greg shrugged. "Well, there is that hope."

Spike was already working on his PDA. "Not a whole lot of folks to follow up here." He told them as he scanned the list. "Most of the victims were university students with families out of the area. Few locals." He tapped his PDA on his knuckles. "News this morning made a big show of laying the blame on the Fire Marshal. Seems he's the focus of most of the families of the victims."

Sam nodded. "Fire Marshal might be a target in all this too. Do we know who it is?"

"Lenardo." Jules answered, looking the information up on her own PDA. "Andreas Lenardo… and the club manager was his brother… kid brother… that's why they're blaming him. They think the manager pulled some family strings to get the club open. But, didn't he get hurt pretty bad too?"

"Wasn't expected to survive." Sam agreed.

Spike frowned.

Andreas?

Andy?

Who lost a brother…?

He glanced sharply at Leah.

She avoided his look.

"Start with the locals." Ed ordered. "Jules, you and the Boss head over to Rose Corporation and see what their take on this is."

"And, maybe, talking anyone out of shooting anyone else." Wordy suggested.

"Wordy, you and Sam head over to the Fire Station…"

"Ed." Leah interrupted. "Might be easier if I took the Fire Station." When Ed frowned at her, she explained "Fire fighter are just like cops: they don't like outsiders knocking on their doors, asking questions about one of their own." She shrugged. "I'm not entirely an outsider."

Greg nodded. "She's already has a connection she can build on." He agreed. Turning to Leah, he advised "Remind them that we are not accusing anyone of anything. We just want to make sure everyone is alright and no one gets hurt."

"Alright." Ed was convinced. "Leah and Spike: Fire Station. Wordy, Sam: survivors and victims. Let's find out what happened that night and who thinks burning down the city is the best answer. I'll catch up with the fire crews, see if there's anything left to give us an idea of who we're looking for." He looked at his team. "Move fast and don't step on anyone's toes. If you have a suspect, stay calm and quiet. Don't let on you suspect and don't try to handle it on your own."

"He hasn't killed yet." Greg told them all. "But he hasn't been cornered yet either. Let's try to keep it that way."

Ed clapped his hands. "Let's move."

And Team One hurried back to their vehicles and off after their individual tasks.

After climbing back into their SUV, Spike paused as he watched the others drive away.

When he seemed to be taking too long, Leah asked "You know how to get to the station from here?"

Spike switched off his radio, then turned in his seat to look directly at her. "Your friend… who lost his brother today? His name Andy? Like, in Andreas Lenardo? Fire Marshal?"

Leah met his eyes, but said nothing.

It was all the answer he needed. "You should tell the Boss…" he started.

"Andy's a good man. He's lived his entire life protecting this city from fires." Leah protested. "He's not about to burn it down!"

Spike shook his head. "If that's the way you think… we just want to ask some questions. You're the one leaping to the idea that he needs to be defended. You really all that confident in him?"

Leah licked her lips. "His entire life…"

"And how long has he been that kid's big brother?" Spike interrupted. When she snapped her mouth shut, he turned his attention to driving. After a moment, he shrugged. "Just saying…"

"I know." Leah spoke softly. After a few blocks, she repeated "I know. Let me… let me talk to him, okay? Just find out how he is."

0o0o0o0o0


	5. Chapter 5

0o0o0o0o0

It didn't take much to get through security. Flash his badge. Self-absorbed paper-pusher hurrying through the back entrance didn't care that it was a fireman's shield.

Badge was a badge.

Badges opened doors.

Badges announced that a man is to be trusted.

Badges told the world that, when you needed help, when you needed someone to save the day, this was the man to believe in.

Andy looked down and ran a thumb over his shiny badge. Silver with brilliant red banners, crossed axes, ladder, helmet… Untarnished, shining, gleaming, a beacon of hope, the shield of a hero, trust, honor, life…

Untarnished.

His fingers wrapped around the badge, suddenly feeling so very unworthy. He quickly tucked it away in his pocket, out of sight, out of mind.

He had a job to do.

0o0o0o0o0

"You'd think that… dying as she did… fire is hot! It burns!... Right?"

"Ruben, please…" his wife whimpered, burying her face in her hands.

He was Ruben Carlos, father of Lara Carlos, a college student, inspiring artist, and fatal victim number seven of the Whispers Club fire.

Killed when she was trapped between bars on an escape exit and a cloud of chemical smoke from burning curtains. She suffocated, frightened and alone, despite the crowd of panicked club goers pressed in around her, screaming and crying, fingers wrapped around the hot bars, no escape, no hope…

The father looked at the SRU officer sitting across from him and asked "How… she looked like she was sleeping. How could something… something like this… how could my little girl be… be dead? When she looked like she was just… just sleeping?"

Wordy had no answers for the man.

He had no answer for any of them.

Members of the families of the victims had gathered at a church near the fire site to mourn the loss of their loved ones, offer support, find some comfort. Most of them were parents. Some were college buddies. Some were strangers who happened to have gotten out of that fire alive.

Wordy had spent the last hour talking to families. An hour was enough. The stories he had heard, just a few minutes with each, left him dazed and buzzing. When he stepped out of the room, he found Sam in a like sort of state: shocked, eyes glazed, flashes of someone else's horror story blinking in and out of his head.

"You okay?" Wordy asked his partner.

Sam gave him that you-got-to-be-kidding look before shaking his head and letting his breath out in a long, exhausted sigh. "Man…"

"I know." Wordy answered, patting him on the shoulder.

"Think I'm gonna have nightmares of human torches."

The older officer nodded. "Yea. Heard that one a lot, too." He glanced up and down the hall, seeing the mourners clustered together, a priest here and there offering comfort. "What do you think?"

Sam also looked about, giving the families another look. He shook his head again. "He's not here."

"Yea." Wordy agreed. Another offered pat on the shoulder, then Wordy was heading for the door, turning on his radio. "Boss, Sierra Three."

"Yea, Wordy, go ahead." came the answer.

"Most of these folks are still rearing from shock, stuck in the denial stage. They're not thinking about revenge." He paused, squinting against the bright, morning sun.

Sam just bowed his head and plunged into the light, eager to get away from the stories he heard inside. Leaving the update to Wordy, he headed straight for their SUV sitting at the curb.

Wordy continued, keeping one eye on his partner. "Those few that made it to the anger stage aren't angry at Rose. They're pissed off at the Fire Marshal. If they go after anyone, it's him."

"Copy that, Sierra Three…"

Wordy listened to instructions from Greg as he watched Sam reach their SUV. A young woman approached the SRU sniper. "Yea, boss. Got you."

"Constable?" the girl called to Sam.

He glanced at her, a little startled. "Um, yea… yes, ma'am?" he managed to respond.

"You guys…" she threw a look at Wordy who was watching from a distance. "You guys were asking about the fire?"

Sam straightened. "Yes, ma'am." He answered, forcing the tired out of his tone, snapping back to alert, trying to prepare himself for the next horror story. "I'm sorry, were you there?"

She gave a little nod. For a moment she dropped her eyes, wringing her hands. But then her eyes snapped up. "They say it was the Fire Marshall, and his brother… the manager… but…"

When she paused, Sam leaned forward. "But…? You don't think so?" he encouraged her to continue.

"Look, I don't know what happened. I was only there for, like, fifteen. But Jamie, she's my friend… she was burned pretty bad. I mean, she's gonna be okay and all, but she's in the hospital. But, she said some stuff, and I think… well, I think you guys should talk to her."

"Jamie?" Sam repeated. "Did she see something?" He looked about, finding Wordy. With a jerk of his head, he called him over. "Did she say something?"

"Just… she said something about the manager trying to close the joint down early… but, you know, she was hurting and crying and there was so much noise and… and stuff…" She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Yea, we heard about stuff." Wordy assured as he joined them.

She looked up at him. "Look, I don't know what she saw or heard or whatever. I didn't get there 'til late." The girl huffed. "I just think you should talk to her. Maybe if she's saying something others aren't, maybe she saw something the others didn't. I'm just saying…"

Sam glanced at the woman's name tag. All the mourners at the church were wearing name tags. "Um… Samantha… what's Jamie's last name? And which hospital is she at?"

As Sam wrote down the information, Wordy walked around to the driver's side, taking the time to inform the others. "Boss, we're headed to the hospital to talk to another witness…"

0o0o0o0o0

Fire Chief Anderson shook his head as he took the quick, long steps down the hall to the front doors of the fire station. "Don't know what to tell you, officers." He was saying over his shoulder as he walked, half hoping they'd no longer be there to answer. The discussion had been uncomfortable to begin with.

Cops asking about his people…

Like his people could possibly be out there starting fires, risking lives…

He spun on Leah, stopping them so suddenly the SRU officers had to skid to keep from falling over each other. "What do you want me to say, Kerns? You so far from home you don't know your old team mates? Your brothers!"

Leah flinched.

But Spike was quick to draw the man's attention. "Sir, we are not accusing anyone of anything. We just need to ask some questions…"

Anderson shook his head. "You know your people, Constable?"

Spike offered a sheepish smile and a shrug. "Like to think I do… but, honestly, man, they do keep me on my toes."

"Well…" Anderson looked him up and down. "Maybe that's why you're just a foot soldier… a trigger puller…"

"Chief…" Leah started. She paused and tossed Spike a look.

Understanding, Spike offered the Chief a nod, excusing himself, and stepped out the front doors to wait for his partner outside.

Leah slipped her comm's earpiece off, showing it to the Chief. "Between us, Chief."

The man tilted his head. "Between us?" he huffed. "Us as in firefighters? Kerns, you don't fit that description any more. Remember? You left!" he hissed. "You abandoned the team, the family. You abandoned the fight!"

Again Leah flinched, but she held her head high and answered right back, her voice steady, strong. "I keep the peace! I keep people safe!" She spread her hands. "That's what you always told us to do." She stepped pass him and laid her hand on an etching beside the door, a dedication, a promise of firemen answering the call of duty. "This… I still answer this call. I still answer, I still come whenever, wherever, whoever calls for help." She looked back over her shoulder at her one time boss. "Andy's my brother… same as everyone I have ever ran into a burning building with. Always have been, always will be." She turned to face him straight on. "And, if you think otherwise, than it isn't me who did the abandoning!" And Leah Kerns stood a little taller, her chin up, her eyes bright and strong, challenging the world to dare say otherwise.

Chief Anderson looked at her long and hard before he closed his eyes. His broad shoulders fell as he seemed to melt inches in stature.

Leah sighed, suddenly feeling as tired and worn as the Chief looked. Softly, she asked "Do you remember… Little Tony's graduation?"

He smiled at the memory. "We took the trucks and let loose the horns when they called his name. Principle nearly called the cops on us. Took me a good hour to drink him out of it." He shook his head slightly. "Was damn proud of that kid. As proud as if he was my own."

"We all were." Leah admitted. "When Andy's parents died and he brought that mouthy little guy to the fire house, not a clue on what to do with him…"

"He needed a lot of help back then, but he fell right into the role of guardian." The Chief agreed, remembering when.

"Andy was always everybody's guardian. Ran into every fire without hesitation, every collapsed building, up every tree after some forlorn cat…"

"It was different with Tony. Tony… Tony was the world to him. His heart, his soul…" Again he closed his eyes and let his chin drop to his chest. "Losing him… it broke him, Leah. Shattered…"

"Chief, what happened?" Leah asked softly. "Did he sign off on that club?"

His eyes open, but he didn't look at her. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Then he licked his lips. "I asked Andy… after the fire… what we found there… bars on the windows, damn ceiling drapes that'd puff in flames with a dirty look…" His eyes snapped to her, suddenly hard and sure. "Andy wouldn't let that joint open if he knew… He didn't! He told me, he swore he had spent the night before with Tony, taking down the last of the bars. Said Tony had already taken the bunting down. He swore that he would never have let that place open if it hadn't been safe."

Leah frowned. "But there were bars on the windows and exits."

"I saw them myself." Anderson shook his head. "They went back up. Between Andy pulling them down and the doors opening… something happened. It had to! Andy wouldn't have lied… not about that! Not when his brother, our Tony…" He stopped and looked at Leah again. "This… this wasn't clumsy. This wasn't an accident. This was murder! Tony!" He snapped his teeth shut and snarled out the next few words: "Tony was murdered!"

Leah felt her chest tightened. It was bad enough losing the boy. But to have him taken… "That's what Andy believes?"

"You don't?" the Chief challenged.

Leah rested her hand on the radio hanging from her belt, arguing with herself about how much to tell the rest of the team. But there was still a question, the important question… "Is Andy going after Roselin?"

Anderson's eyes narrowed, protectiveness for his men rising up again in his chest.

Seeing the fight rise again, Leah headed it off. "Fires are being set, Chief. Set by someone who knows what he's doing, who's targeting Roselin…" Again she laid a hand on the plaque. "No matter who calls, we answer… you, me, SRU, firefighters… it's what we do. You don't have a problem sending our brothers and sisters into a fire Andy set? You know as well as I, good, even the best… no one controls fire!"

Chief Anderson looked at her for a long, cold, silent moment. Finally, he nodded once. "Andy's on mandatory leave until the investigation is over. You find him, you ask him yourself." That said, he turned and started back down the hall. But he stopped a few feet away. Not turning back, he called "Leah?"

"Yes, sir?"

Voice almost too soft for her to make out, he said "You save him before he goes where he can't come back from. You hear?" He continued, not waiting for her answer.

Leah Kerns nodded. "Yes, sir." She answered his back. But, as she turned to step outside, joining Spike, she couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't already too late.

0o0o0o0o0

A/N: sorry this took me so long. I know all the great action to come, just not the bits that connect them. Without those in-between parts all we have is fire, fire, bang, boom, scream, fire, more fire, cussing, fire...Sure, great for visual effects, but not so good in holding a plot together.

And it's hard to write Leah since there doesn't seem to really be much on her. Kinda like I'm creating her character as I go (so, any Leah Kerns insights please offer them up).

Anyway and anyhow, as always, pleading for feedback.

~~The Chronicler

P.S. Serra- Sierra


End file.
